


I Want A Kingdom Where My Love Can Stand

by theandrogynousdragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Aged-Up Character(s), Arthur Pendragon Critical, Arthur Pendragon Is An Ass, Artie Boy is the Token Het lol, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Merlin (Merlin), Dialogue Heavy, Drunken Confessions, Episode: s05e02 Arthur's Bane, Episode: s05e05 The Disir, Exhibitionism, F/M, Feral Merlin, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Ghosts, Good For Him tbh, Good Mordred (Merlin), He's kind of a dick, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), I support Kilgharrah's rights to shut the FUCK up, Kinda, Light BDSM, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mention - Freeform, Merlin Gets a Hug, Merlin Has PTSD, Merlin Needs a Hug (Merlin), Merlin and Will Use Regional Dialects gdi, Merlin has self-esteem issues, Merlin is a Little Shit (Merlin), Miscommunication, Multi, My Boys Are Soft With Each Other, Open Tournament, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Possessive Behavior, Post Episode AU, Prank Wars, Protective Merlin (Merlin), Protective Will (Merlin), Resurrection, Sleepy Cuddles, Smoking, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, Welsh Language, Will Gets Merlin To Say Fuck Destiny, Will Is Always Down To Fucking Fight, Will Lives (Merlin), Will gets ahold of some weed at one point, Will has PTSD, Will has a shouting match with a certain dragon, Will has an epiphany, Will is a Mess, also Will takes no shit, and yanno, continued his dad's genocide, decennial tournament, fae laws, fandom you guys are failing me, hey look that's a tag, i will stop someday i promise, it's even canon gdi, it's supposed to happen every ten years so here we go, mostly an excuse to age Will up a bit, nothing explicit though don't worry, oh look i did it again, should probably stop updating the tags for every chapter lol, so that, the epiphany is that he's in love with a dumbass lol, these boys need so much therapy, they fuck shit up, tiny smidge of plot, we are getting Merlin some goddamn LOVE and AFFECTION in this house, why is that also not a tag, why is that not a tag, yes that is in fact historically accurate I checked
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:13:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26281732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theandrogynousdragon/pseuds/theandrogynousdragon
Summary: One person can change everything. The stars may drive men's fates, but the stars never counted on a farm boy clawing his way back to life out of stubbornness and a wish to protect his oldest friend.He might not be part of some prophecy, but by god he'll turn it on it's head.
Relationships: Daegal/Mordred (Merlin), Elyan/Gwaine/Percival (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Will (Merlin)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 91





	1. What You'd Do For A Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so if you stan Arthur Pendragon this is probably not the fic for you? I tried to tag everything but we'll see how this goes.

Merlin wakes up alone. Or alone, except for a ghost. Will is crouching next to him, naked as the day he was born, frowning in that I'm-concerned-for-your-health-and-possibly-your-sanity way he's always had. Merlin wonders why ghost Will doesn't look like he did when he died. He has a terrible headache though, so he decides to puzzle it out later.

“Oi! Don't you fall asleep on me, you twit!” Merlin opens his eyes _when did he close them?_ and grumbles at Will-with-two-heads.

“M'no' 'sleep,” he mutters, pouting a little. Will could be considerate of his headache, but _no_. Apparently that's too much to ask of ghosts. Gentle fingers brush against the back of his head and Merlin hisses at the accompanying spike of pain.

“Can you get up?”

“I c'n try.” _OWOWOWOWPAINOWWHYFUCKOW_ He slumps back to the ground, struggling to bring his eyes into focus again. “I thin',” he gasps, “my ribs're b'oken.”

“I figured that from the screaming, but thanks for letting me know.”

“You _ass_.”

“Love you too, Merlin.” Will's frown deepens. “And you can't do any o' your... tricks?”

Merlin goes to shake his head and immediately regrets it as the world tilts around him. “No' like this. An' I'm shit a' tha' sort, anyw'y.” Everything goes foggy for a while after that, vague impressions of swaying motions and a low voice singing. He wakes up properly to a banked campfire, a holly tree bowed under crackling ice to his left.

“Ey up, lazybones! How're you feelin'?”

“Will!” Merlin eases his way up into a sitting position, groaning quietly. He can feel rough cloth around his ribs, and his head throbs dully. “Definitely felt better, that's for sure.” He grins at Will. “I'm just relieved you're not a hallucination, to be honest. And you look...different.” He tilts his head, squinting. “Older, maybe?” 

Will grins back, “so're you. Least they've been feeding you proper, you don't look like a strong breeze'd blow you away.”

“Oi!”

“It's true, you git, and you know it. Now quit wiggling, s'not gonna help your ribs any.”

Merlin looks around, confused. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Hell if I know. I just went south for a bit until the snow was mostly gone.”

“Where'd you get those clothes, by the way? You were sky-clad before.”

Will laughed, throwing his head back. “I s'pose you'd prefer that, ey?”

Merlin snorted, “nah, you just look right poncy in all'at frippery.”

“Yeah, well, it weren't like the dead bloke was needin' 'em.”

“Aye, cert.”

“How's the head?”

“Been better, but I think I can manage a few of my tricks, leastways ones that'll help me walk.”

“Like hell you're walking.”

“I've done it before.”

“That's the problem right there.” Will flopped down next to Merlin, pulling him in so his head was on Will's shoulder. “C'mere you.”

Merlin smiled tiredly, curling into the side hug as much as his ribs would allow. “Ey, Will? Why're you here?”

“For you, o'course.”

“No other reason?”

“Nah. You're the only reason I need, hawk.” 


	2. Roaming In It's Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will may have robbed someone. Perhaps. Also Will philophosizes about how pretty Merlin's eyes are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for smoking and intoxication. and Arthur getting punched

“William, where did that horse come from?” Merlin asks, frowning at the dappled warhorse standing behind Will and lipping at his pockets for treats.

Will just grins, shameless. “The rich arse wasn't treating 'im right, so I staged a jailbreak o' sorts.” Merlin sighs, huffing a laugh. He stands up gingerly, wincing. Everything bloody _aches_. He limps over to Will, digging in one of the horse's saddlebags. “Hey,” Will says, holding up a pipe and a satchet of some unfamiliar herb. “What d'you think'll happen if we smoke this?”

“We might die. Put that down.” Merlin blinks at the purse and small pile of various foodstuffs set out on a large napkin. “Will, did you _rob_ someone?”

Will glances up from his fiddling with the pipe. “He 'ad a lot of rings on, he'll be fine. Now get over here and help me light this.”

“....yeah, alright.” Merlin snaps his fingers, a tiny flame blinking into existence on his fingertip, and lights the strange-smelling herbs. “This is a terrible idea, just so you're aware.”

Will inhales, coughing a bit. “Aye, and so was nicking Matthew's cider when we were fourteen. Something bein' a bad idea never stopped you before.” Will offers the pipe to Merlin. He shakes his head, smiling, and accepts. If Mother could see him, she'd probably box his ears. Good thing she can't then.

* * *

Hunith pauses her spinning, overcome with a sudden conviction that _her boys were causing a ruckus_ again. She shook it off after a moment. William was long gone, and whatever Merlin was up to, well. He'd mellowed out lately. She did miss his laugh, though. Maybe she'd write Gaius later.

* * *

Merlin is... not exactly drunk, but it feels similar. He's sprawled out next to Will, staring at the half-frozen tree branches scraping against each other. His head feels fuzzy and everything is wonderfully indistinct. The pain had lessened for a bit, too, which was nice. It was almost like he was floating. Will pokes him clumsily, pushing himself up on his elbows to emphasize whatever point he's making.

“Oi, Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“Why're your eyes like that?”

“What?”

“They're so... I dunno. Sometimes they're sort of like th' sky, an' sometimes they're like rainclouds, yeah? And! _And!_ Sometimes they're like _ice_! _Ice_ , Merlin! But y'know what?”

“Whassat?”

“I like 'em best when they're all summer wheat and starlight.”

Merlin turns his heavy head to look at Will. “Really?”

Will nods, emphatic. “I like that colour best a'cause it's very you-ish, right? An' it feels gift-like, see, when I get to see that. D'you know what I mean?”

“Aye, think so.”

Will scrunches up his face and leans closer. “It's why I was so sore about you leavin'. I didn't want anyone to steal the summer wheat away.” He frowns, saddened. “But some'ne did, Merlin. Plucked the starlight righ' outta your eyes. Don' like that, me.”

Merlin's face warms. “Ah, well,” he mumbles, glancing away from Will before he does something stupid, “you c'n cosh them 'bout the head for me.” 

Will's answering grin is near blinding, which should've warned Merlin, honestly.

* * *

Leon is a Knight of the Round Table. Leon is the son of Lord Rupert of the House of Ellison. Leon is also Merlin's friend. He has never seen the strange man with short-cropped brown hair that Merlin comes riding in with before. (And when did Merlin leave? Whose horse is that? Why does Merlin look injured?) Though he's not entirely surprised, knowing Merlin, that the man jumps off his horse, strides up to King Arthur with bristling anger in every step, and slams a fist into His Majesty's face.

Leon is a Knight of the Round Table. Leon is Merlin's friend. Leon decides that he is needed urgently in some other part of the castle. Namely, the physician's quarters. He walks up to the horse, and smiles at Merlin. “Hello, Merlin. Let's get you to Gaius, hm?” 


	3. Wanna Be Held By You

Merlin grimaces at Gaius' fussing. “I'm fine, really.”

“He is _not fine_ , don't listen to him,” says the boy from the courtyard, storming in with bloody knuckles. “He's got broken ribs.”

Arthur bursts in after him, holding his bleeding nose. “You b'oke my dose!”

The boy rolls his eyes, “I did not, quit whinging and sit down. An' I only walloped you because you left Merlin behind in those caves, you git.”

Gaius stares at the boy, pale as if he's seen a ghost. “You're dead,” the old man mutters shakily.

“I got better.” The boy manoeuvres Merlin back onto the patient's cot. “What part of _you have broken ribs_ do you not get, huh?”

“Wait,” Leon says slowly, confused. “What do you _mean_ , Merlin got left behind?”

The boy turns, murder in his eyes. “You mean,” he snarls, “to tell me, that _no one_ noticed Merlin was _missing_?” Leon is starting to think he should just keep his mouth shut from now on.

“Will,” Merlin sighs, “leave it. It's alright.”

_“It is not alright, what the **hell** , hawk?” _

Leon beats a swift retreat in the direction of the knight's barracks. He has a few questions that need answering.

* * *

Will's voice is a bit hoarse after all the yelling. Worth it, even though he couldn't get Merlin to see how messed up this whole thing was. Dying had definitely been a bad idea. Shouting at Prince—sorry, _King_ —Arthur had been one of his better ones. Prick had thought he could get away with calling Merlin an idiot _in front of Will_. Not bloody likely. And he really doesn't like how... resigned with it Merlin looks. Used to be, Merlin'd pick a fight with a tosser like that. Will decides he'll just have to remind him. Later, when he's not bloody exhausted. He curls himself close, a hand on Merlin's chest, wiggling a little on the small bed. “Gonna start in on building you a bigger bed, tomorrow. Plenty o' spare wood around,” he murmurs, already half-asleep. Will lifts one callused hand and drowsily starts tracing the pale freckles on Merlin's face. Merlin watches with wide eyes, looking like he wants to say something. Merlin's got a very pretty mouth, now that Will's thinking about it. Very pink and soft-looking. He restrains himself from following that thought any further. Will's been dead for nine years, after all. It wouldn't be _right_ of him to do anything about that particular thought.

* * *

Merlin tries to talk himself out of it. _Don't be so greedy,_ he thinks. _You have him_ _ **back**_ _, why do you want any more than that?_ He can't help wanting, though. Will was his first, after all. He's loved Will in one way or another his entire life. And William son of Roran has always been Merlin's anchor, his lodestone and his plumb line. He blinks, slowly, watching Will watching him with his blue eyes half-closed. Merlin's mouth twitches. He wants to.

* * *

Will decides to be a bit selfish. He inches closer to Merlin and plants a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He smiles shyly at Merlin and tucks his head under Merlin's chin, tangling their legs together and breathing in his scent. Merlin's always smelled a bit like woodsmoke and wet stone, and now it's mingled with herbs and something he thinks might be magic, a scent like the moment before lightning hits the ground. He's fast asleep in minutes.

* * *

Merlin blinks, trying to figure out what just happened and what it means. He wants to hope it means that Will loves him the way Merlin does, but he knows what happens when he hopes for things. And anyway, Will was half-asleep when he did it. He settles, huffing a little sigh, and decides he'll take what he can get. 


	4. Don't Know What To Do With Your Kiss On My Neck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys being Disasters About Affection in different ways. Also pining and that sweet, sweet miscommunication

Merlin wakes up with a start, someone nudging at him in a way that feels like they're trying to be stealthy. He twists, grabbing the person's arm in a rough grip and tugging them close. The person half-falls on top of him, their eyes going wide in the murky pre-dawn light. “Hoi, easy now, hawk. S'just me. Just Will.”

Merlin lets go, flushing guiltily. “Sorry, Will.”

Will doesn't get up, stretching out fully on top of him and bracing himself with his arms on either side of Merlin's head so he doesn't aggravate the warlock's sore ribs. He plants a kiss on Merlin's forehead, smiling. “Ah, no harm done. Should've realized you'd get spooked easy, livin' here an' all.” There's a flash of white as Will smiles wider, “good morning, hawk.”

Merlin scowls, grumbling, “s'too early t'be morning.”

“Aw, don't tell me this place has turned you into a _city boy_ , now!” Will laughs softly, nuzzling at his throat a bit before springing up and chivvying him out of bed. Merlin bites back the whine that nearly escapes his mouth when Will gets off of him. “C'mon, hawk, let's go have some _fun_!”

* * *

Hunith once again shakes off the feeling that her boys are causing a particularly large ruckus. Though, she thinks, maybe she should _visit_ Merlin, instead of writing a letter. She hasn't seen her son in too long.

* * *

Several of the knights show up to morning training with raw egg in their hair. Not a single knight of Camelot has shoes. Arthur slogs drippingly onto the field, trailing little puddles of red wine, sporting a fantastic black eye which blends into the massive bruise over the bridge of his nose. Leon's hair is _black_ , and poor Gwaine's hair has been attacked with scissors _and_ egged. Merlin and his (new?) friend are conspicuously absent. Mordred, the only one clean and in possession of both shoes, stares at the lot of them in disbelief before collapsing into giggles. He _likes_ Emrys's friend.

* * *

Merlin and Will sit on the balcony of an abandoned tower, passing a bottle of mulled wine between them. Merlin's smoking the last of the mystery herb, and Will tries not to stare at his mouth _too_ much. Though, in his defense, Merlin's pretty mouth on that pipe looks downright _indecent_ , especially with his hair all wind-ruffled like that.

“Oi, hawk? C'n I tell ya a secr't?” Merlin turns to look at him and the intensity of that storm-blue gaze steals Will's breath for a moment. “my mam'd be diss'poin'ed in me, y'know? Nev'r been much for dresses, no' me.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“Never wan'ed a girl, yanno? Jus' more about the lads, yeah?”

Merlin's eyes go all wide and he leans in close. “Oh. Oh! Tha's a'right, Will. Don' think she'd be too fussed, long as you got some'ne to love you.”

“Yeah.” Will reaches out a greedy hand and cups Merlin's face. “I'm a goner on you, ya abs'lute madman.”

“That so?” Merlin whispers, tilting his head, a smile dimpling his cheek.

Will nods, solemn as the death he crawled out of. “So,” he says, “tha's so. Always been, always be.” He presses a kiss, sweetly, to the corner of Merlin's jaw, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Heavens help us, m'not leavin' you, no matter what any gods try t' say. Damn 'em, and damn heaven too, if they try t' tell me I can't have you.” Merlin's quiet, leaning into his hand with this soft look on his face, but that's alright. Will doesn't need Merlin to say it back. What they've got is enough.

* * *

Will starts bringing Merlin flowers, big bright handfuls of marigold and honeysuckle and agrimony and bugleflower, little sprigs of celandine and primrose, a whole bush of red campion one time, roots and all. Merlin admires them and incorporates them into his remedies. Will doesn't mind that; he's a practical sort. He just loves the little startled grin Merlin makes when Will walks in with double handfuls of milfoil and oxeye and viper's blueweed.

* * *

Will turns the first floor of that abandoned tower into his own little workspace, and Merlin brings swords and armor in and does his polishing in one corner. Will strips to the waist when he works and delights in “pretending” not to notice Merlin staring at all that exposed skin. When he's feeling particularly teasing, Will drapes himself over Merlin's back and slides his hands down Merlin's arms until his hawk drops the polishing cloth from nerveless fingers.

* * *

The queen—Guinevere, and _that_ throws him for a loop the first time he sees her—threatens to remove his “important bits” with a spoon if he hurts Merlin. She also says she approves of them being together, so hey, that's good. The knights are a bit cheerfully rough about threatening him with bodily harm should he hurt their adopted little brother. That Mordred kid is a bit _scary_ about it, but he figures magic types are just like that. Arthur is... _painfully_ awkward, but Will knows Arthur's also just like that. It's good that Merlin's friends care about him, even if they're ridiculous at showing it.

* * *

Hunith shows up to see Merlin, takes one look at Will, and says “no” over and over, which is absolutely _hilarious_. She also smacks the back of both their heads and tells them to quit being hooligans. (She tells Will, privately, that she's glad he and Merlin seem to have worked their feelings out. “He needs someone to love him properly, someone who knows all of him. But if you hurt him, I will _send you back_ to whatever afterlife you came out of, gods help me, William Roranson.”)

* * *

He hugs Merlin and drags his hands over his skin and holds Merlin's hands at every opportunity and plants little kisses on his jaw, the corner of his mouth, the top of his curly head when he's sitting at Gaius' table in the morning. He tangles up with him at night, close as close can be. Will doesn't push for anything more than that. Merlin's been hurt enough and rushed into far too much. He'd hate himself if he ever added to it. But he _wants_. He wants so much it feels like he's _burning_ with it.

* * *

But, well. What they've got is damn well good enough. It's _fantastic_ , actually, and Will is breathless with how lucky he is, to have this. To have Merlin. To have Merlin like this. It's a goddamn _gift_ , is what it is, and he doesn't know how anyone could _not_ see it. He really _is_ such a goner on Merlin. And gods help the poor fool who tries to take this man away from him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flowers Will brings Merlin are all native to the UK (I checked, lol) I just used slightly different names for a couple of them because aesthetics. "Bugleflower" is blue bugle, "viper's blueweed" is viper's bugloss, "oxeye" is oxeye daisy, and "milfoil" is another name for yarrow.


	5. Not Exactly Storybook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more miscommunication and Merlin being Ridiculous. Slight trigger warning for a mention of blood and death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, Merlin looks like this: https://whimsycatcher.tumblr.com/post/161802355903 :)

Mordred likes Emrys, bordering on sheer worship, admittedly. But this? This is just too much. Mordred would like to resign from all mind-reading abilities, please goddess. Effective immediately. He _likes_ Emrys, he does. But he _does not_ need to be sitting in the armory and hear Emrys pining after Will in counterpoint to Will mentally rhapsodizing about Emrys's hands. _Emrys_ , Mordred says telepathically. _Emrys, I know you're courting, but please try to think quieter. I can't exactly filter this sort of thing._ Will's thoughts turn a bit... filthy and Mordred wants to _**die**_.

_Courting? What are you talking about?_

_...You and Will?_

Emrys scoffs bitterly, _Mordred, we're not courting. I wish, but Will's just a friend._

Mordred blinks, stunned. He grabs the nearest person—Sir Elyan, as it happens—pulling him close hysterically, his entire world crashing down in front of him. “Elyan. _Elyan_. He _**doesn't**_ _**know**_.”

Elyan stares at him like he's taken leave of his senses. “Who doesn't know what?”

“ _Merlin_! Doesn't know! He's _being_ _courted_!”

Elyan glances at the subject of their conversation, who has his sleeves rolled up, no scarf, his longer hair (“Will said I should try growing it out a bit.”) sticking up funny on one side. “I think he knows, Mordred.”

(Mordred would also like to not hear Percival and Gwaine pining after Elyan, who is pining after both of them and feeling horrendously guilty about it, but that is a completely different batch of biscuits.)

He feels dangerously close to crying. “He doesn't _**know**_. He doesn't _fucking_ know. He- I can't- _why_?”

Merlin limps over, scratching at the new stubble on his chin. “Something wrong, Mordred?”

Mordred screeches in frustration and promptly bursts into tears.

“He okay?”

Percival places one massive hand on Mordred's back, humming softly. “Uh, stress? I think?”

Elyan laughs, “oh, and he seems to think you don't know about Will.”

“What about Will?”

Gwaine smiles, nudging Merlin. “Y'know, about the courting.”

“...what?”

The knights freeze, startled, all thinking the same thing. _Oh gods, he_ _ **doesn't**_ _know._

Merlin's face turns stony. “I see.” And then he's gone, out the door before anyone can explain.

Percy grimaces, “we just messed up very badly, didn't we?”

“HOW?” Gwaine splutters, “HOW COULD HE NOT KNOW?”

Elyan sighs, dropping his head into his hands. “Hopefully, Will can sort him out.”

* * *

Merlin slams the armor onto the workshop table, giving Will the worst death glare of his life since the Tulkas Donnell Incident almost twenty years ago. “Is... um. Is something wrong, hawk?”

“Don't you have someone to be _courting_ , William?” Merlin snarls nastily.

Will cringes. He's definitely fucked up somewhere. Shit. “If this is about the tournament-”

“Oh, I'm sure you'll be needing a _favor_ from your _lady_ , William.”

“What are you-”

“Get. Out.”

Will turns to go, feeling like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. “I am... sorry, hawk. For... whatever I did.”

Merlin huffs wordlessly, and Will slinks out the door. 

* * *

Will only entered the tournament as an excuse to smack rich posh blokes legally, but now he's pouring his frustration into it. He is vicious with it, kicking dirt into eyes, biting exposed skin, cracking one man's head on the fence post separating the ring from the spectator area at one point.

And then a particularly clever one gets in close and stabs him. It doesn't hurt, at first. There's just a sense of heat and pressure, and _then_ the pain comes and it knocks him to the floor. It reminds him eerily of when he took an arrow in the chest. He props himself up on one elbow, curled around his injury, just in time to see Merlin tackle the man and shove a knife in his throat. There's no finesse to it, just a quick thrust-and-twist and the man is dying, choking on his own blood.

The crowd goes silent as Merlin turns to him, eyes glittering, blade dripping crimson, and Will knows it probably shouldn't, but the picture steals his breath all the same. Merlin is _incandescent_ in this moment of bloodlust and rage, a whisper of something _other_ ( _ **holy fire, hell fire**_ ) settling on his broad shoulders. And then Will's getting hauled up and into the medical tent and the moment's gone.

* * *

Merlin still has blood on his hands, cooled slightly and starting to clot, but Will grabs at them anyway. Merlin tries to pull away, ashamed, and Will won't let him. “No,” he growls, “oi, I love _you_. That means _all_ of you. That means the dark things _and_ the kinder ones. I'm not here to love an _ideal_ , hawk.” He cups Merlin's face, gently, gently, and Merlin wants to cry.

“I don't deserve this,” he rasps.

“Who said anything about deserving? I love you, and nothing you do is ever gonna change that. You could, you could tear the _skies_ down and slaughter all the gods and I would be right behind you, toppling their golden thrones. What we've got might not be the best thing for either of us, true; we're both a bit too vicious and broken for that. But it's _ours_ , and I will raise the dead if that's what it takes to keep you safe. D'you understand that, hawk? I'm not leaving you. I said that before and I damn well _meant_ it.” Then Merlin is kissing him, properly, full-on, and Will knows what heaven feels like.

Merlin breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Will's and actually does start crying. “Oh, hey, Merlin, hey now. What's wrong?”

“I thought- when you went down, I thought-”

“Oh, love. I'm right here, love. It's alright,” Will breathes, drawing Merlin into a proper hug. “Oh, darling. I'm not gonna die on you again, sweetheart, I promise you.”

* * *

Magic heard him, and clung to that promise with the ferocity of dragons, and the gods saw it fitting, and made it so. 


	6. Moment's Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here be smut. And some reference to suicidal thoughts. Stay safe, kids!

“So you really had no idea? Got ya flowers an' everything, and you really thought I was sweet on someone else?”

Merlin scowls at him from across the room, shirtless and up to his elbows in suds, trying to get the blood out of his and Will's shirts. He shoves his hair out of his eyes, grumbling, “I didn't, a'right, what 'bout it?” He's got suds in his hair now, and his accent's slipped into his mother's native Welsh. (He's got scars all over, but that's alright. Soldiers always do.)

Will stands up, careful of the eight stitches in his side, and snugs up to Merlin's back, propping his chin on one scarred shoulder. “S'just, darling, you were jealous o' _yourself_ ,” Will croons, trying not to laugh.

Merlin twists, crowding him back against the wall. “Show you _jealous_ , you prick,” he mutters, biting Will's collarbones.

“Thought ya, ah, liked m' prick,” Will gasps, fumbling to hold onto conscious thought when half his brain's gone decidedly south.

“Hush, you.”

“What? Don' like your lad givin' pointers?”

Merlin jerks his head up, eyes bright gold and slitted like a cat. “Mine?” he whispers in a voice like dragonfire.

Will nods, “yours, all yours, sweetheart. Ever and on, I swear it.”

Slitted pupils go wide and Merlin drops, hard, onto his knees and starts untying the laces of Will's trousers.

Will would be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to where this is going, but he still stops, half-worried that Merlin is only doing this because he feels he has to. He puts a hand in Merlin's hair and tugs lightly until he's looking at him again. “You sure you're good for... this sorta thing, love?”

Merlin snorts, “th' hell d'you mean, “good for”? S'not a fuckin' _transaction_ , Will.”

Will can't help it; he starts giggling. “I dunno,” he gasps, “what tha' means.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and swats Will's thigh, “oi, shuddup, or m'not doing it at all.” Will goes quiet for all of six seconds, which is how long it takes Merlin to get that pretty mouth on his dick, and then he starts rambling.

“So good, so fuckin' perfect, gorgeous, so damn goo- ah shit, yes! Fuck, d'you know how pretty ya are, darling? My pretty, goddamn beautiful, pretty lad, fuckin' _hell_ , ah!”

Merlin raises one brow and pulls off with a filthy wet noise. “Thought I told you to shut it, William.”

Will shuts it.

Merlin hums, pleased, “ _good_ boy.” Will _shivers_.

* * *

Merlin cleans off with a spell and kindly extends it to Will.

“Y'know, you could've done that with the shirts, you didn't have to wash 'em.”

Merlin crumples, laughing, his face scrunched up. Will likes that look on him, so he kisses him. Incentive.

* * *

Will fiddles with Merlin's hair, watching the curls straighten and spring back. “Should probably talk about it, yeah? Expectations an' all.”

“Mmm.”

“I think I might like bein' tied up sometimes. With magic.”

“Oh?”

“Aye. Your turn.”

“Um. I don't, uh. I dunno.” Merlin flushes crimson and ducks his head.

Will snorts, “considering you just had a particular area of my anatomy in your mouth, I'm not gonna let you be all shy now. C'mon, just one thing?”

Merlin's eyes flare gold again, pupils narrowing to slits and blowing wide in the same breath. “So, you'll _let_ me, William? Is that it?”

“That, uh, might've been the wrong choice of words.”

“Oh, _quite_.” Merlin hums, thinking. “Erm, I did like telling you what to do, that was, um. Good.”

“Just good?”

“Shush. And uh, maybe biting? A little? Is that weird?”

“I've heard worse. D'you want me to start callin' you sir or something? M'not calling you Pa, not doing it, I don't care _what_ you say.”

Merlin stares at him, brows furrowed deeply. “Where did you get _either_ of those things? No, I don't want you calling me anything, the hell, Will.” There's a noise like an angry tomcat and Will startles.

“Was that _you_?”

“Ah, sorry.”

“When did you eat last?”

“Yesterday?”

“Yesterday?! _Merlin_! Right, stay here, I'll be right back.” Will dives in for another kiss before darting out the door.

* * *

Will comes back carrying a thick iron pan. “Will, what are you- you didn't have to get a whole damn pie, Will, m'not gonna eat all of that.”

Will looks up, a little sheepish. Only a little, though. “You just said you hadn't had anything all day. Can't be good for you, Merlin.”

“An _entire_ pie, Will.”

Will shrugs, and sets the pan in Merlin's lap. It's still warm, even has steam coming out of it. “So you'll have some for later. It'll keep fine.” He has a fork in his hand.

“No plate?”

“You'll live.”

Merlin tilts his head, considering. He squints at Will's hand holding the fork. “Is this a sex thing?”

“Wha- no?”

“Just asking.”

“Why would that- never mind. Just don't particularly enjoy being able to count your ribs, hawk.”

“Fair enough.”

Merlin makes a grab for the fork and Will quickly moves it out of reach.

“I can feed _myself_ ,” Merlin whines sulkily.

“Apparently not, if today was any indication. Just, lemme do it, yeah? Wanna take care of you, and you're shit at doing it yourself.”

“Oi!”

“It's true and you know it, so hush.” Will gentles, smiling softly. “You don't have to do every little thing yourself, love. Let me help, yeah?”

“Okay.”

* * *

The next month is... _insane_. Will half-wonders if the gods are trying to kill all of them through stress. First is the whole madness around Uther _fucking_ Pendragon coming back as a damn ghost and causing havoc, and then there's Morgana running around as an old woman (the look on her face when she saw him _was_ kind of funny, though), followed directly by a bunch of ancient hags harping on about a coin and a judgment, which very nearly gets Merlin _killed_. Merlin jumps in front of Mordred right as one of the crones throws a _wooden stake_ at him. The thing narrowly misses his heart, breaking three of his ribs and making a bloody hole in his left lung. Will has to be held back by Percival to keep him from killing the woman in terrified rage.

* * *

Mordred's eyes burn amber as he weaves healing spells over Merlin's wound. It's the only reason Merlin is taken back to Camelot to see Gaius, and not wrapped in a shroud. Mordred is led away in chains on Arthur's orders, and that doesn't sit right with Will at all.

* * *

Not even Mordred's magic can heal Merlin fully. Gaius says they ought to prepare for the worst, and Arthur has the bright idea to go back to the people who hurt Merlin in the first place and beg for mercy. Will doesn't think this is going to accomplish anything, but he goes with Arthur anyway. If nothing else, to make sure Arthur doesn't get _himself_ killed.

* * *

“What would you do?”

Will blinks. “Me?”

“In my place.”

“No, see, I know damn well what you're trying to do, and I'm not having it. You're trying to shift the choice on me when you _know_ the gods are judging _you_.”

“The fate of my kingdom is at stake-”

“Merlin's _life_ is at stake! _And_ Mordred's!”

“Mordred chose to practice sorcery, and pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I-”

“ _Mordred_ ,” Will snarls, viciously, “is _**seventeen**_ , which is a year younger than I was when I died _for you_. I'm starting to think I shouldn't have jumped in front of that damn arrow. You going to clap me in irons, hm? Seeing as how _I'm_ violating the laws of Camelot.”

“ _You_ saved my life.”

“So did Mordred. And he may have saved Merlin's. Are you going to hang him for it?”

“I, well, that may not-”

“Oh, but I forgot!” Will sneers. “The _laws_ , and all.”

“But unfettered sorcery is _dangerous_.”

“Of fucking course it is, numbskull. The only thing those old biddies are asking you to do is _understand_ the Old Religion, not start throwing spells about yourself. And maybe stop killing off everyone who even _thinks_ about magic, you prejudiced fuck.”

Arthur's clearly wavering now, so Will drives the nail home. “Magic isn't purely evil, or purely good. It's not a thing of hard definitions like that. Magic is...” he thinks of Merlin, as beautiful in his icy ruthlessness as he is in his warm compassion. “Magic is only as good as the one who wields it. It's not, not a sword, it's more a _scythe_. You can bring in a crop or kill a whole village with it, but you have to make a _choice_ , it's not set in stone one way or the other.”

* * *

Arthur swears to embrace the Old Religion with the dawn turning his hair the color of ripe wheat, and Will can almost see the King that prophecy talks about.

* * *

They turn towards Camelot, and Will's hands shake. He can't help but think that Merlin might've died anyway. That Merlin might've died alone. That Merlin might've died at all. He feels sick. His hands _shake_. He thinks of gleaming silver knives and he thinks of the dark harvest of summer-bright promises, and is _terrified_ it might not have gone both ways.

* * *

Merlin is, as it turns out, fine. He's still got broken ribs, but the wound itself is gone. (He has a new scar, a knotted snarl of puckered red skin in the shape of an eight-point star.) Will curls up on the patient's cot with his shaking hands and a knife in his boot and tries not to cry. “I was scared, hawk,” he rasps past the lump in his throat. “Was so scared you wouldn't be here when I got back. I know I said I wasn't leavin' you, but I was ready to follow you if you went first.”

Merlin blinks at him, eyes glassy and unfocused from the poppy juice Gaius gave him earlier. “Oh, Gwilym,” he whispers, sleep-soft and adoring, and Will really does start crying, big hot ugly tears that shake his shoulders and make his chest ache. “Oh, fy melys, nid i mi. Fy nghariad, rydych chi'n addo i mi. Peidiwch â meiddio, nid er fy mwyn i. Wedi'r holl waith caled hwnnw?” Will clutches at Merlin's shirt and Merlin holds him close, eyes gone cat-like again. “ _Fy_ Gwilym,” he snarls in a voice like _burning_ , “fy un i i gyd, neb arall. Rwy'n dy garu di. Ni chaniateir i chi farw, a ydych chi'n deall? Os byddaf yn marw, ni chaniateir i chi fy nilyn, heulwen. Fy heulwen, fy machgen heulwen, fy nghariad. Ydy hi'n unig i fyny yna, heulwen? Mae'n ddrwg gen i. Rwy'n colli chi pan mae'n bwrw glaw, fy hyfryd.”

“Rwy'n addo, ni wnaf,” Will mutters, hiccuping a little. “Rhegi. Hyd yn oedos yw'n teimlo fel nad yw'n werth aros yn y byd hwn os nad ydych chi ynddo, arhosaf. Dim ond i chi, arhosaf, ac efallai un diwrnod y byddwch yn dod yn ôl ataf.”

Merlin purrs and refuses to let go of Will at all for the next three days, baring his teeth and growling if anyone even suggests it. Will doesn't protest in the slightest. (He dreams of blood and fire and gleaming silver. Merlin's arm at his waist and Merlin's hand in his hair is a soothing pressure when he wakes biting back screams.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's speech at the end is in Welsh and is a rough translation of: Oh, William, oh my sweet, not for me. My love, you promise me. Don't you dare, not for my sake. After all that hard work? My William, all mine, no one else's. I love you. You are not allowed to die, do you understand? If I die, you are not allowed to follow me, sunshine. My sunshine, my sunshine boy, my love. Is it lonely up there, sunshine? I'm sorry. I miss you when it rains, my lovely. 
> 
> Will's answer is also Welsh: I promise, I won't, I swear. Even if it feels like it's not worth staying in this world if you're not in it, I'll stay. Just for you, I'll stay, and maybe one day you'll come back to me.


	7. Se Castel Inn þá Brimclifu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter title means "the castle in the sea-cliffs" in Old English

The dragon grins, massive bronze-scaled head looking as kind as the facial structure will allow. “I congratulate you on your union, young warlock. May it last unto the ending of the stars.”

Will blinks. “I'm sorry, _what_? Hawk, did the fire-breathing lizard just say that we're _married_?”

Merlin shrugs, “told you he speaks in riddles.”

“It's a very old rite, not used much anymore. It ah, requires the respective parties to make love on the night of a full moon, under the open air, in a forest of oak and holly, either near the sea or during a rainstorm.”

Will scowls at Merlin, “did you know this?”

Merlin shakes his head frantically, “no! I swear, Gwilym, I had no idea!”

Will tries to ignore the little shiver that goes down his spine every time Merlin calls him Gwilym. He squints suspiciously. “So you just, what? Decided we should bugger each other in the rain, at night, just because?”

“Ehm. Yes?” Merlin's face is crimson and _literally_ on fire, which is actually kind of funny. (Nearly gave him a damn conniption the first time it happened.)

Will snorts, shaking his head. “Right, you're ridiculous. Now quit with the theatrics so's I can kiss you.” 

* * *

Kissing Merlin's always a fine treat, but it also gives him the time to come up with an important question for their cryptic scaly voyeur. “Can we still get married the regular way?” Will asks with an air of you-had-better-say-yes he stole from his mam.

The dragon _laughs_ at him, and Will is sorely tempted to haul off and punch the smug lizard in the nose. “Yes,” the riddling creature finally says, looking like it wants to laugh again. “You can, though it might be a bit... excessive.”

* * *

Merlin has to grab Will's arms so he doesn't try to be the first person to kill a dragon by hitting it with his fists.

* * *

Will slips a hand into his pocket, fingering the signet ring he begged from Hunith three days ago (she had received it nearly thirty years ago from Merlin's father, and had been delighted when Will had asked her for it). The ring is silver, carefully etched with some kind of dragon variant on the face, an old script Will can't read wrapping around the sides. He's glad he can still use it, though he would've given it to Merlin even if the dragon had said they couldn't get married a second time. All Will has left of his father is a coat of mail he himself died in, and he'd give anything to have something more of him. Merlin didn't have _anything_ from his father, and Will's not the sort of horrid person it'd take to keep an heirloom from him. 

* * *

He realizes that he didn't get to yell at the dragon when they get back to Gaius' chambers. He pouts at Merlin for the rest of the day.

* * *

Then, of course, because the gods hate him, Gwen gets fucking kidnapped by Morgana. Great.

* * *

Will goes with them, because he's not one for staying behind, and because he cares a great deal for Gwen, and also to make sure there's an extra set of hands when everything goes sideways.

* * *

Everything, very predictably, goes sideways. Gwen's quiet and clinging to Arthur, and Elyan only lives because of Merlin's magic. Which is, apparently, pissing the king off. For some reason. Will's just glad magic isn't a death sentence now. (Arthur's been trying to get it legalized, but the court are a bunch of stubborn old noblemen who think Gwen has no right being Queen. Idiots, the lot of them. It's been agonizingly slow going.)

* * *

“You betrayed me,” Arthur growls, and Will bristles, hands curling into fists. (Mordred looks similarly incensed, and Percival looks like he's contemplating regicide, a hand on his sword. Leon has fully drawn _his_ sword, and Gwaine is, funnily enough, too preoccupied with fussing over Elyan to notice the tension reigning over their camp. Gwen looks... almost _triumphant_ , before the expression slides off her face, and Will knows that something is very _wrong_.)

Will needn't have bothered, though, because Merlin whirls, eyes dragon-gold, sneering, “ _I_ betrayed _you_? In what way, pray tell, _Sire_?”

Arthur scowls, pulling his shoulders back. “You _lied_ to me, every day for ten _years_!”

“ _ **Yes**_!” Merlin roars, “yes! I lied! I lied because I preferred _dishonesty_ over _death_ , and I'm _so sorry_ if that offends your sense of honour, Your _Majesty_!” That gets Gwaine to look over to see what the yelling is about, and Elyan stirs and tries to sit up, distressed.

Arthur opens his mouth and Merlin cuts him off with a gesture, sparks flying from his hands and hanging in the air like tiny stars.

“No,” Merlin snarls, voice whisper-soft, “no, Arthur Pendragon. You do not get to make this about you, not this time. I have shed far too much blood in your defense to let you tell _me_ about misplaced loyalties now. Yes, I lied about my magic. Yes, I pretended to be someone I was not. _Yes_ , I even became your servant under false pretenses! I admit that freely! But you, Arthur Pendragon, have told me to my _face_ , uncountable times, that magic was the deepest of evils and corrupted the soul. You, Arthur Pendragon, have _slaughtered_ my people, and only expressed remorse when it affected you directly. _You_ , Arthur _**Utherson**_ , were more than happy to continue your father's genocide, so _forgive_ me if I wasn't particularly fond of _burning_ just to satisfy your gods-damned _**pride**_!” The cookfire leaps a meter high, and Will decides to get Merlin away from the king before someone actually does start burning.

* * *

Will grabs Merlin around the waist and then they are, very abruptly, somewhere else. Will stares up at the huge castle carved into a cliffside, icy seawater soaking his trousers to the knee as a flock of terns scream overhead. “Well,” he says. “The hell is this?” Merlin very helpfully chooses right now to pass out into the surf.

* * *

He hauls Merlin up the wide stone steps and pauses in front of a massive door that has no visible handle. “Um, giant magic castle?” he asks, feeling patently ridiculous. “Let us in?” The door slides open silently, and Will _really_ hopes this castle doesn't belong to some magical race of giants. Though it would, he knows, be consistent with his luck.

Huge braziers hanging from the ceiling _fhwump_ to life as he steps into what looks like a receiving hall, based on what little he knows of castles from staying in Camelot. They fill with blue flame and cast very interesting shadows. He can't smell any mold, just saltwater and dust, which is good. No one's been here for a while, then, and no mold means the place is structurally sound, at least. He carefully sets Merlin down against one wall and gently taps his cheek. “Hey, hawk, I know you'd rather not, but I'd like it very much if you'd wake up now.”

Merlin groans and bats his hand away. Serious measures, then. Will starts peppering his face with kisses, and _that_ gets his hawk to wake up. Predictable man, Merlin is.

“Where are we?”

“Was hoping you could tell me, considering you were the one who brought us here.”

“Didn't do it on purpose.” Merlin gets up, a look of wonder on his face. “Do you hear that?”

“No. What am I not hearing?”

Merlin doesn't answer, running further into the castle, hurried steps echoing on the stone.

“If we get killed by some weird magic shielding thing, I'm blaming _you_ ,” Will grumbles before sprinting after him. 

* * *

Many leagues away, somewhere in the Impenetrable Forest, the young king of Camelot finds himself shunned by his Round Table.

“Should we go after them?” asks Sir Percival, making a show of sharpening his sword.

“Nah,” says Sir Gwaine, shaking his head. “They'll turn up when they're good and ready.”

Sir Mordred frowns, head tilted as if listening for something. “I can't hear their thoughts, so they must be very far away.”

Sir Leon glares at his king. “You know you deserved that, Sire.”

King Arthur Pendragon, very wisely, says nothing.

It is decided they must return to the citadel without their two friends, as the queen and Sir Elyan both need the physician.

* * *

Will finally catches up to Merlin before a door bearing the same dragon as the signet ring that originally belonged to Merlin's father. “I can't _open_ _it_!” Merlin snarls, eyes wild and frantic.

“It's alright, hawk. Think I've got an idea.” He takes the ring from his pocket and hands it to Merlin. “Put it on, then try opening the door again.” Merlin clearly wants to ask him why he has the ring, but he's too worked up over whatever-it-is to ask right now. The ring is a perfect fit, and even Will can feel the strange hum of powerful magic at work now.

* * *

The door scrapes open, and they walk in together, freezing at the sight that greets them. _Eggs_ , dragon eggs, at least three dozen at first glance, resting on cushioned shelves chipped from the rock walls. “Amaethon have mercy,” Will rasps. “Look at them all!”

Merlin weeps, a trembling hand clamped over his mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amaethon is the Welsh god of agriculture and farming. The cliffs our boys arrive at are based on the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, though the castle is entirely fabricated. 
> 
> You can thank my friends for the chapter not ending on the bit that starts with "Will grabs Merlin" lmao


	8. Tell Me We're Gonna Be Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just baby dragons. That's all. Scaly babies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to the lovely panharmonium who helped with the dragon names <3 also shoutout to @the-once-and-future-gay on tumblr, who I named a dragon for because she's awesome :D

Merlin touches a shaking hand to the nearest egg—a soft green like new leaves, with some rust flecks—and mutters “sélan”, and then the egg _moves_. Cracks appear around the smaller end, and Will can hear little chirps steadily growing louder. The dragonling that plops into Merlin's waiting arms is the same spring-green color as the egg, with rust colored talons and tiny stubs for horns. Will steals Merlin's scarf and rubs the little creature down like he used to do with the new lambs in Ealdor. “So,” Will murmurs, carefully checking the cat-sized dragon over. “What's their name?”

“She,” Merlin croons, “is Sélan.”

“Sélan. Does it mean something?” The little lass seems to have all her toes, and the limbs feel strong, at least as far as Will is aware. He doesn't exactly have much knowledge of dragons, after all.

Merlin blushes, “it uh. It means “precious” or “gift”.”

“Well, she certainly is that. Can I hold her?” Merlin gently untangles tiny claws from his shirt laces and hands her over. “Hello, Sélan. Welcome to outside the egg, little one.” The dragonling bumps her forehead with his and a wash of... _joywarmth_ _ **safe**_ floods him.

“What. Just _happened_?” 

“I think she might've just imprinted on you?”

Will startles, eyeing the happily chirping magic lizard baby with a bit of suspicion. “What, like ducks?”

“Apparently?” Merlin shrugs, already moving to another egg, this one a darker green with interesting cherry swirls. “I don't know a lot about dragons, to be honest. My father was,” he bites his lip, hard, “too dead to teach me anything.”

Sélan scrabbles up and settles herself across his shoulders. Will swallows thickly. (They are both children of disasters, ashes of their fathers pressing to their skin like ghosts trying to grab onto the living, to make them _see_ , to keep them from repeating their _mistakes_. (Too late, too late, too late.) Broken boys, ash-covered boys, boys with sharp edges and sharp teeth and sharp smiles. Born in winter snowfall, born in summer flood; bad omens both.) “I'm sorry,” he says. ( _I know how it feels_ , he doesn't say, but it is known well. _That ache will never leave_ , he doesn't say either. It would hurt too much.)

“Not your fault.”

* * *

Merlin calls five more dragons out of their eggs before Will begs him not to hatch anymore. Merlin makes this, this _wounded_ noise, and Will very nearly gives in. “They're- they'll get _big_ , hawk.”

“This castle's plenty big,” Merlin grumbles mulishly.

“Aye, but they eat meat, love. If nothing else, they'd eat all the deer in the isles, if you hatched all of 'em now. And what do you think'll happen if they start eating cattle—or _people_ , gods forbid.” Merlin concedes, but he's _pouting_ now. Will sighs. “A'right, _one_ more! Just the one!”

The one he chooses is a larger size than the others, the myriad color of hot coals that fades to a rich copper at the base of the egg. Merlin seems to pause for a bit longer than before, but finally mutters, “Ysel eledfyr,” and the egg breaks open.

It takes Will a second to realize that there's _two heads_ , and he immediately thinks of the calf that was born when he was twelve. Poor girl hadn't survived the night, and he feels almost angry that this should happen. It's just, not _right_. What with—everything. And then the hatchling sorts its limbs out and _oh_ , there's _two_ of them. “Huh,” he mutters, staring at the little buggers. “Didn't know dragons could have twins.” They're markedly smaller than the other newborns, but seem hale otherwise. The slightly larger one is the orange-red-yellow-white color of a banked fire, and the yellow eyes seem to glow in that tiny face. The other is the bright copper of a new coin, with an interesting greenish color on the horns that reminds Will of a tuppence left in saltwater.

Merlin taps the head of the fiery one, “Eledfyr,” then the copper, “Ysel.” 

Five of the new dragons bound up to the twins, curious, snuffling and chirping, but Sélan seems content to watch from her perch on Will's shoulders, one leaf-green wing draped over his back.

The most rambunctious of the lot seems to be a male the color of a cloudless summer day with bright gold horns and talons named, aptly, Hador, meaning “clear sky”. He snaps his sharp little teeth at the twins—both male, which is probably why Hador is so aggressive—and Merlin scolds him in the dragon language. (Will wonders if it's possible to learn it. It sounds like lightning-storms and forest fires, dangerous and powerful and beautiful in the tragedy of that power, and William Roranson wants to _taste_ it, swallow that fire _whole_ ; maybe then he will burn bright enough to chase away the darkness that's eating Merlin alive.)

Singren chitters, almost like a laugh, and spits sparks at her... brother? litter-mate? at Hador, anyway. Something like a smile curves her dark green scales as she repeats his name over and over in a high voice, cherry flecks interspersed through her coloring like clusters of jewel-bright berries hidden by shadowed leaves.

The largest of the eight is another girl, Windræs, a pale blue that could almost be white with claws like mother-of-pearl. She crouches protectively over the twin boys, growling at Hador and lashing her tail.

Ysten, a very dark blue that turns greenish-purple halfway down their legs, is apparently “both at once” according to Merlin. Will decides not to ask if that's meant in a physical sense. Not like a baby dragon is going to be particularly fussed about gender.

Storra, a girl that's _bright fucking silver_ , for some reason, grows bored of all the fuss and starts gnawing on one of Merlin's boot buckles. 

Will sighs again, scrubbing a hand over his face. They've more or less just saddled themselves with eight toddlers. Fire-breathing, magical, scaly _toddlers_. Singren sneezes and lights Merlin's shirtsleeve on fire, and Will has a sudden flash of commiseration with Hunith. Tiny Merlin was a little _horror_ , and now there's basically eight of him _._ (This is admittedly a bit Will's fault, but Merlin is also more than capable of causing havoc on his own.) “C'mon,” he mutters, scooping Hador up to separate him from Singren before they get into any real fighting. “Let's find them something to eat before they start on each other.”

Merlin looks horrified and offended at once. “They wouldn't!”

“They're _babies_. You don't know that.”

Merlin follows him, leaving the egg-room still grumbling, a bunch of tiny dragons trotting after him like goslings.

* * *

“But I hurt Morgana. Nearly _killed_ her. Multiple times.”

“Yes, but that doesn't mean what's wrong with her now is your fault.” Will doesn't even know how they _got_ to this topic. They'd been talking about Aithusa, Merlin's first hatching, and if it was possible to heal her injuries. And now, _this_.

“Will, you're not list-”

“No, _you're_ not listening. Are you holding her hands, huh? Are you whispering in her ear, telling her to abduct Gwen, nearly kill Elyan? Do all o' this?”

“... no.”

“No, you're not, so it's not on you. You made a decision, yes, and it was a hard one, and it never should've been on you to make it to begin with. But that doesn't mean that everything Morgana does until her death is your fault, hawk. Her actions are her own, just as yours are your own. Make sense?”

Merlin sighs, nodding. He looks exhausted, grey rings like bruises around his eyes, and it's been a hellish week, all told.

“C'mon, hawk. Time for bed.”

Merlin blinks at him owlishly, “but the hatchlings-”

“They can come with, c'mon.”

His protest turns into a yawn so wide his jaw pops. Will hauls him up and Merlin clings to him like a child. Will grins and scoops him easily into his arms, the little ones excitedly weaving around his feet as he walks to a massive bedchamber. (The bed has heavy blue velvet curtains, for Morrigan's sake! There's a bath built into the _floor_ , big enough to fit _three_ people! And a fireplace that takes up almost an entire wall! They're inside a damn _cliff_ and there's windows that somehow lead outside! It's ridiculous, in Will's opinion, even for a magic castle.)

* * *

They curl up in the middle of the huge circular bed, eight little dragons snugged in around them, drifting easily into a sleep that will be mercifully free of dreams.

* * *

Sélan blinks at the smoky blue man that stands by the window. Moonlight passes through him, and a silver-blue stain coats his chest. “Óiche mhaith, seanathair,” she murmurs.

* * *

Balinor son of Gaheris, of the House of Caledonensis, Lord of Castle Wyllt by right of blood, _smiles_. His son has come _home_ , and he has hatched dragons. “Óiche mhaith, gariníon,” he whispers, settling into an armchair to wait for the dawn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dragon's names are based on Old English words that I've tweaked the spelling of a little  
> Sélan - precious, dear gift  
> Hador - clear sky  
> Ysel - spark, cinder  
> Eledfyr - "æledfyr", flame of fire  
> Singren - "singrene", evergreen  
> Windræs - windstorm  
> Ysten - "yst", storm, tempest  
> Storra - "steorra", star 
> 
> The bit at the end is Irish and they're just saying "good night, grandfather" and "good night, granddaughter". Nothing too fancy XD


	9. Blood Calls to Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of this chapter is fairly dark, so ymmv. tw for mentions of child death and genocide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PAN MADE ME ART YOU GUYS HOLY SHIT I LOVE IT!! LOOK!!  
> https://panharmonium.tumblr.com/post/634014109007069185/theandrogynousdragon-i-actually-picked-up-a 
> 
> Any real historical people you might see have been borrowed and put back nicely 
> 
> Also I am aware that "Caledonensis" literally just means "of Caledonia" shhh let me have my linguistic drift

Will frowns at Singren, who wriggles and gets ready to pounce on Merlin. “Don't you _dare_ , sprog,” he growls, “he is _sleeping_ , let your da rest, huh?” She pouts, but Will's not budging. “C'mon, tiny nuisance. We'll see about breakfast, and then we can wake him up, alright?” The little ones rouse themselves—extremely grudgingly, in the case of Ysten—and tumble after him into the dining hall. (He decided not to question the food that appeared on the table last night. Magic castle, and all.) 

Sélan looks up from her venison chunks and says, very seriously, “Papa Willem?”

Will's heart goes from _melting-at-babies_ to _holy-_ _ **fuck**_ _-what_ when he suddenly has a lap full of _actual human child_ , with unnaturally-bright green eyes and rust-colored hair.

“Uh, well,” he rasps, his heart feeling like it's ramming into his throat. “At least that'll be easier to explain than, uh, _dragons_.”

* * *

Merlin wanders into the dining hall to see Will surrounded by toddlers and seriously considers going back to bed. He scrubs at his eyes, blearily, but nope, they're still there. Alright then. Breakfast, then he can deal with... _this_. Whatever _this_ is.

* * *

His father's ghost shows up halfway through breakfast and Merlin very nearly stabs him with a fork. _Why_ does everything have to happen at ungodly hours of the morning? _Why_?

* * *

Merlin discovers a drink called _kahve_ four hundred years after the dissolution of the kingdom of Camelot, and is _incensed_ they didn't have it earlier.

* * *

Balinor speaks of history, of the lineage he belongs to, and Merlin listens hungrily even as everything in him balks at being the heir to a noble house. (He really does try to stab Balinor with a fork when the man admits to his mother being the sister of Brian Borúma mac Cennétig, one of the late kings of Éire.) Will laughs uproariously before Balinor informs him that as the consort of his son, Will is technically a nobleman by proxy. Then _Will_ is the one trying to stab a ghost.

* * *

Balinor is, properly, Balinor ap Gaheris, Lord of Caledonensis (the Romans, predictably, butchered the name of their House so thoroughly that it never regained its older name) and Eorl (which is really just another name for a lord. The English and their titles, honestly) of Castle Wyllt. His father was Gaheris ap Manawydan, his mother the Lady Órlaith íngen Cennétig. Castle Wyllt is built into a massive cliff in the Éireann coastline, but the cliff and a good deal of the land around it is (mercifully) not under the reign of any of the surrounding kingdoms.

* * *

Fourty-seven eggs were sealed away in the Nesting Hall before Uther and his men slaughtered everyone in the castle, man, woman and child. They even put the torch to the _livestock_. The only reason Balinor was not among them was because he was being smuggled out of Camelot's dungeon at the time. “My youngest brother was not yet eight,” Balinor whispers. “My niece was only three months old that harvest, and my elder sister bathed thirty of Uther's soldiers in dragon fire in vengeance for that loss before she was cut down herself.” He drags a hand over his face, and Will wonders if ghosts can cry. “I returned to find my ancestral home in ruins, my family slain by people I would have once called friend. I buried them all, alone, and then I swore never to return to this place until Uther died.”

* * *

They go to the cemetery to pay respects to Merlin's ancestors, leaving the hatchlings with Balinor, who seems delighted by their antics. (Apparently, young dragons can shape-shift for the first five years of their lives, as a kind of defense mechanism.)

* * *

They go to the cemetery, and when they come back, Arthur and the knights are standing in the Receiving Hall. _Arthur_ and _the knights_ are in the _Receiving_ _Hall_ , and Will knows, in his bones, that the very _rock_ the castle is carved from is angry. Merlin is, well, he's certainly seen Merlin angry before, furious, yes. Merlin has a temper once he really gets going, but _this_ is. This is _rage_ , pure and simple. Blind, _absolute_ wrath. In this moment, Arthur is not a friend, but the man who spoke of betrayal over a secret that would have seen Merlin killed. Arthur is the son of a man responsible for the massacre of his _entire family_ bar his mother. And Arthur has just made the grave mistake of setting foot in a castle that remembers what horrors the walls bore witness to.

* * *

Arthur's bane might well be himself, after all. 


	10. The Darkness Hums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have slipped in a few Game of Thrones references because Will appears in that show lol

The stones beneath their feet tremble, and white flame coats Merlin's hands. Will understands now what Balinor meant when he said his sister called on dragon fire. He is also absolutely certain that _someone is going to die_ unless they do something _right now_.

* * *

Mordred solves that problem by tackling Merlin to the ground. Merlin snarls, growling something in dragonspeak, but Will doesn't bother them. Mordred has magic if he needs to defend himself, and Will doesn't, simple as that. Will does, however, walk right up to Arthur and snap at him to _leave,_ _ **now**_.

Arthur has the audacity to _refuse_ , and Will very nearly punches him for it. Balinor appears, scowling at the gathered knights like he very much wants to call forth dragon fire himself. “You will leave this place, Arthur Pendragon, and you will take your knights with you, or this castle will cause your deaths.”

“I don't understand. I'm not here to hurt anyone.”

Balinor's glare could freeze magma, and Will is _so very glad_ he's not on the receiving end of that. “Stone _remembers_ , Pendragon, and these stones witnessed the massacre of my entire family at the hands of your father. My son is angry with you, yes, but the castle is making that ire worse. Get. Out.”

* * *

Arthur and the knights trudge out the doors, and Merlin settles, gasping like he's run thirty leagues. He shoves Mordred, who grumbles about ungrateful friends mockingly, but moves away all the same. “What just... happened?” Merlin asks, wiping a shaking hand down his face. (Will thinks it's a little odd, how Merlin shares some of his father's mannerisms when he barely knew him.)

Balinor sighs, “the castle is... it holds a grudge for those of the Pendragon blood after what happened.”

“It's _sentient_?” Mordred squawks, whipping his head around like he expects a statue to come to life.

“Not as such, but it does have some level of... awareness. This castle has been in my family for generations, and the magic done within these walls has... changed it, in some ways.”

“I didn't want to kill them,” Merlin whispers, and Will grabs his hand.

“I know you didn't. The castle's just being tetchy.” Merlin's watery laugh cuts off as he frowns at his father in an expression that's almost completely Angry Hunith with a bit of Disappointed Gaius thrown in. Balinor squirms and Mordred looks like he very much wants to be _not here_. Will sympathizes. Family shit is always bloody awkward.

“Where are my little ones, Father?”

“Ah, the. The dining hall?”

“You _left_ them there? By _themselves_?”

“Um. Y...es?”

Mordred nudges Will, “who's he talking about?”

“You'll see in a minute, Mo. Hush.”

Merlin scrambles up and jogs off, swearing creatively. Will drags Mordred behind him and Balinor “decides” to go check on Arthur. (More like he feels guilty and doesn't want to deal with Angry Merlin. Will'd know.)

* * *

The table is on _fire_. Eledfyr is hanging off the chandelier. Windræs is yelling at him to Get Down Right Now. Hador is pulling Singren's hair. Singren turns dragon to bite him more effectively. Storra is smacking Ysten with a book that came from... somewhere and Ysten is whining at her to Stop Being Mean. Ysel is chirp-laughing and spitting more sparks on the table. Sélan is Pouting in a corner of the room, cuddling what looks like a weird cross between a cat and something with _tentacles_ to her chest. Merlin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, snapping out something in dragonish that pulls all the toddlers to a halt. He barks something else that gets the eight hatchlings to line up in front of them sheepishly. (Sélan won't let go of the creepy tentacle-cat, and Hador and Singren shove at each other a bit, but they line up all the same.) Will assumes, by the tone and the hatchlings' expressions, that Merlin's scolding the lot of them. He wishes he knew what Merlin was saying, if only so he could copy it a bit when the little terrors get up to mischief again. They trot out (grudging) apologies, and Merlin introduces them all to Mordred. Mordred absolutely adores them, even though he's understandably leery of Sélan's tentacle-cat. Hell, _Will_ is unnerved by the thing.

* * *

Windræs calls him “Uncle Mordie” and Mordred _melts_.

* * *

Merlin nudges him, smiling. “Been meaning to ask you,” he says, and Will freezes.

“Ask me what?”

Merlin hands The Ring back to him. “What'd you have this for? It's my mother's.”

“Technically it was your father's first. Gave it to your mam, he did. Wanted it so's I could marry you, proper-like.” Will shoots him a grin, “what'll people say, now that we went and had kids afore getting married, huh?”

Merlin tips his head back, laughing like Will hasn't heard in ages, and Will kisses him silly for it.

* * *

“That a yes, then, Lord Merlin Caledonensis?”

“Oi, come off it, you. 'Course it's a yes. And you're a lord now too, don't forget.”

“... I wanna divorce, Merlin.”

“ _William_!”

“I don't know how to be a lord of anything. Don't even know how to _read_ , hawk.”

“You can learn. It'll be alright.”

“Nope. Never needed letters before, not doing it now. M'too old for it, anyhow.”

“You're not yet thirty, you prick.”

“See? Too old, what'd I tell ya?” Will's face falls. “Truly, though. I'm too bleedin' _lowborn_ to be kin to... to m'lord high.”

Merlin's eyes go soft and worried-like. “Hey, now. Don't you start with that “m'lord” shit. You are William, son of _Sir_ Roran,” Will scoffs, “a knight of His Majesty's Army in the reign of Ceolwald of Essetir. You're not lowborn, Gwilym. And I don't care about any of that. I'd love you the same if we were never any more than poor farmboys in Ealdor. I'd love you the same if we were kings of all Albion with wealth enough to anger the gods. All that... it doesn't matter to me, fy melys. Never will, swear it.” Merlin leans in to kiss him with a gentleness that breaks Will's heart, but the look on his face after is all stone. “I would tear the stars down from the sky if it made you smile, and I would scorch the whole world to a lifeless husk if you asked it of me, fy heulwen. I am not made for letting go. Don't you dare ever think you are not enough for me, Gwilym. You will always be enough, no matter what happens. I love you, and I always will. _Always_.”

Will kisses him then, all force and teeth like he can press the promises between them like pressed flowers in books he can't read. _Gods_ , he thinks. _Gods have mercy, but our broken edges fit just enough not to tear each other to pieces. Oh, gods help us, when we crash at least it'll be beautiful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur is standing outside shin-deep in Cold Ocean Water because the tide came in and covered the front steps lmao  
> Also, Gwaine: I told you man. I fuckin warned you bro


	11. My Mere Monstrosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for mentions of torture in the last bit. also first appearance of Daegal!

Eventually, Mordred slips back out to fetch the rest of the Round Table, Singren happily clinging to his leg and causing him to limp about. The knights slog in, stiff with cold and saltwater. Merlin faces them, looking every inch the scion of kings, dressed in serf's clothes as he is. “Why are you _here_?” he growls, and Percival thinks, for a moment, that his mouth almost looks like there are too many teeth. Percival was druid-raised. He knows all about the legend of Emrys, magic made flesh. He shivers, a little. Magic is not a _tame_ thing, for all Merlin's gentleness.

Arthur has the grace to look contrite. “I came to apologize, for my words the other day. It was... uncalled for, and insensitive.”

“Yes, quite.” Merlin slumps and a smile steals onto his face, and Percival releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. “I don't hold it against you.”

“Thank you. Now, care to explain... any of this?” Arthur gestures to their surroundings, bewildered.

Merlin grins, “what do you know about dragons and their lords, Arthur?”

* * *

The explanation is short, but of course the questions take hours to answer. Gwaine and Elyan are taken with the little dragonlings, Leon is studying the architecture (he seems very curious about the magical fire), and Arthur is talking quietly to Balinor. Percival makes his feet move to Merlin, where he takes a knee before him and recites the words his mother taught him, so long ago it feels now. “I here swear fealty to the Lord Emrys: to ever stand in defense of Lord and Land, facing my foes with courage and honor, protecting the innocent, mindful of mercy, obedient to my Liege Lord, and guardian of the just and right. So swear I, Peredur of the Order of the Mountain Ash, may the gods strike my name from the earth should I fail in this most noble creed.”

Merlin quickly wipes the shock from his face and lays a hand on Percival's shoulder. “I accept your fealty, Peredur of the Order of the Mountain Ash, and I will be glad of your sword when the time comes.”

The other knights follow, even Leon, who keeps glancing warily at a gobsmacked Arthur.

“So swear I, Elyan of the Forge.”

“So swear I, Medraut of the Order of the Willow.”

“So swear I, Gwalchmei of the House of Leodegan.”

“So swear I, Leon of the House of Ellison.”

Arthur sighs, shaking his head. “If you're quite done _stealing my knights_ , Merlin, are you coming back to Camelot or staying here?”

“I haven't _stolen_ them, Arthur. They _chose_ to do this. And we'll be coming back, but there's something I need to do first.” Merlin pauses, “I'm not sure if you would be able to stay here until we get back, but someone needs to watch the hatchlings while we're gone.” Mordred whisks Arthur away, pouting a little at not being able to stay, and the other knights—are they still knights?—all set to toddler-dragon-wrangling. Will wishes them luck, truly.

* * *

He and Merlin set out to find a white dragon.

* * *

His magic reaches for Aithusa, his first hatchling, whispering that he must _fix_ , he must _heal_. Merlin tries to resist, frightened. “What if I make it worse?” _Hush, vessel. All will be well._ Magic swamps his vision, defined shapes turning to bright swirling lights and vague outlines. (He doesn't know it yet, but this is how a dragon sees the world. _Life_ , and possibilities layered over one another unto the end of that particular creature's existence.) He can see it now, the _wrongwrongwrong_ that has been done to his hatchling and then his hands _twist_ with a spell in dragonspeak falling from his lips, and the _wrongwrongwrong_ fades, unmakes itself, and _mighthavebeen_ becomes _shouldbe_ becomes _is_.

“Who hurt you, daughter?” he whispers, after Aithusa is restored to the full glory that should always have been hers.

“Sarrum,” she says, and Merlin grins, rage _burning_. (There is a _reason_ dragonlords were feared throughout history. Those who had the soul of a dragon were not exactly known for being _merciful_ when someone hurt what was theirs. This has been forgotten thanks to long years of peace followed by a massacre. It will be remembered swiftly enough.)

* * *

Sarrum of Amata dies _screaming_ , pleading mercy from a man who will not give it.

Will buries an axe in the man's ribs after three hours. He arches a brow at Merlin's scowl, muttering that the yelling was making his ears ring. He cleaves Sarrum's head from his shoulders, a shadow of something primal and vicious twisting his mouth into a smile that would frighten lesser men. “And that was for 'Thusa,” he says, kicking the corpse away from him, and Merlin's answering smile is bright like bone-fires and light glinting off virgin blades.

* * *

Will would follow Merlin straight down to hell, if he asked it of him. Merlin may be magic itself, but Will is a vengeful angry creature. He is a hard thing, all iron and sharp teeth. His mother called him _wolf-child_ for a reason. 

* * *

Mordred freezes, staring at the lad who just came tumbling over the wall. The boy stares back, fear in those pretty green eyes. “It's alright,” Mordred whispers. He glances at the way he's holding his wrist. “Do you need help?”

The boy swallows thickly, and finally manages a smile. “I need to, um, I need to speak to Merlin? It's important.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Singren is absolutely doing the toddler leg hug to her new Uncle Mordie, btw.


End file.
